


One Chance

by butyoumight



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Hospital, Injury, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-10
Updated: 2007-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It's my fault. Is he okay? They took him away, Brian, I don't know where they took him. Is he okay? He has to be okay. This is all my fault."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	One Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Cliché fic is clichéd, but I love it anyway. My first real foray into non-linear storytelling, trying to put that Quentin Tarantino vibe into written form.

The taxi was incongruous as it pulled up to the scene.

A police officer approached the cab just as a small man got out, tiny silver rings through his nose and lip glinting in the twirling blue and red lights atop the emergency vehicles. Under the flickering light, the man looked pale, almost haunted, turning his head, trying to take in the entire scene, as if trying to find someone. Something.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He turned to look at the officer, blinking, gesturing back at the taxi driver, just one more moment. "I'm Brian Schechter."

"Oh!" The officer gestured vaguely towards the wreckage at the side of the road. "That's--"

"Yes," Brian pulled out his wallet, paying the taxi driver with a hefty tip, thanking him graciously despite the slight worried waver in his voice. "That's my car. What's happened? Are the boys, uh, the people who were in the car, are they alright?"

"The driver has been taken to Saint Anthony's, that's our hospital here in town. The passenger, a, ah," He checked the clipboard in his hand, "Gerard Way, is right over here. He's been asking for you, which is why you were called."

A pair of paramedics sighed as the young man they'd been trying for the past twenty minutes to treat leapt to his feet, wobbling slightly as the sedative they'd injected him with five minutes before tried to knock his legs out from under him.

"Brian!"

Brian left the cop behind to wrap his arms around Gerard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Brian." Gerard was more or less incoherent, mumbling weakly against Brian's neck. "It's my fault. Is he okay? They took him away, Brian, I don't know where they took him. Is he okay? He has to be okay. This is all my fault."

+

"I want a hotel within walking distance, I want at least three rooms, and I want it yesterday. I want the boys there two fucking hours ago. Yeah. No. We don't know yet, he's in surgery. Of course I will. No, Gee's alright." Brian paced a tread in the too-shiny hospital tile, speaking into his cell phone as quietly as he could manage. "He's got, like, a concussion and some scrapes, but he's okay except for how bad he's freaking out. No. No, the fucker's fine, sitting in fucking jail without a goddamn scratch." He sighed, passing a hand over his face, looking up as a doctor he recognized approached. "I have to go. Just fucking get them here. Yeah. No. Call his parents, but I don't want anyone else to know about this yet. Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

"Brian Schechter?"

Brian ran a hand through his hair, pocketing his cell phone. "That's me."

"Frank Iero has been moved into a regular room, fifth floor. He's still unconscious, but we expect full recovery."

Brian let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Thank fucking Christ. Can I see him? Where's-"

The doctor spoke over him, but not unkindly. "Gerard Way is already with him. Five Nineteen. I have some other patients to tend to, but I'll be up to check in with them both in an hour or so."

Brian grabbed the doctor's hand, shaking it swiftly. "Thanks, doctor, thank you."

+

Brian made a point of opening the door slowly, peeking in hesitantly before stepping into the room proper.

Gerard looked up. He was perched on the very edge of a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, both hands wrapped protectively around Frank's hand that didn't have an IV taped too it.

Gerard's eyes were startlingly bloodshot, making the golden hue sort of dull, tarnished. There were slight salt tracks on his cheeks, but no more tears in his eyes. His voice was rough, a soft waver underlying each word. Brian wasn't sure how much of that was his worry, and how much was the sedative still settling in his body. It had been a long time since Gerard had had any kind of altering substance in him.

"He's so cold, Bri. Cold, and pale, look at him."

Brian chewed on his lower lip, reflexively doing as implored. Frank's tattoos were brilliant against how bloodless the underlying skin seemed. His hair was swept over his eyes, giving Brian an uncomfortable chill, as if the tiny boy were dead.

"Why hasn't he woken up?"

Brian crossed the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. "The others are on their way. Worm's getting us a hotel."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Gerard..."

Gerard looked up, his eyes sparking. "I'm _not_ leaving him."

+

"Frank. Frankie. Psst. Frank, wake up. _Franklin_."

"I hate it when you call me that."

Gerard grinned proudly. "You awake?"

"I am now, thanks to you. What do you want?"

"I was hoping you'd take me on a drive."

Frank scowled. "You woke me up out of a dead sleep to drive you around aimlessly?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"We don't have a car, Gee."

"Brian said we could use his."

"So why didn't you ask him? Or Toro, or something? I was asleep, Gerard."

Gerard turned on his trademark pout. "It's not the same. They wouldn't smoke with me, and they wouldn't talk with me either. You're the best, Frankie. Please?"

Gerard's eyelashes fluttered imploringly. Frank closed his eyes, sighing, running a hand through his hair.

"Let me put some clothes on."

+

"Mr. Schechter?"

Brian looked up, blinking slowly to focus his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid we have some... well, it's not _bad_ news, per se..."

Brian stood up, Gerard following suit. The doctor looked down at the clipboard in his hand.

"As of our last round of tests, Frank has stopped responding to external stimuli, and normal sleep cycles have ceased." Gerard reached for Brian's hand, clenching tight.

"In short, Frank has slipped into a coma. There's nothing we can do but wait and hope for the best."

Gerard's heart took up residence in his throat. "No."

"I'm sorry."

+

Frank had some kind of tape brace around his right shoulder. Gerard could see it through the inappropriately thin hospital gown.

The doctor had told him that Frank's shoulder had been dislocated. They determined that in the split second Frank had been aware of the impending collision, he'd thrown his arm out, pressing his hand against Gerard's chest in a vain hope to protect the older man. The awkward angle coupled with the force of the crash had knocked his shoulder out of place. They assured Gerard that it would heal.

Late at night in the hospital room, as Gerard watched Frank's chest rise and fall slowly, almost precisely in time with the bone-chilling heart monitor, he swore he could feel the heavy press against his heart.

+

"Gerard?"

"Hmm?"

Frank turned the stereo down, glancing over at Gerard, flicking ash out the barely cracked window. It was too cold to have the window rolled down all the way, how Frank preferred.

"What would you do if I told you I loved you?"

Gerard smiled softly, looking out with window at the full moon above them. "I'd ruffle your hair and kiss your cheek and laugh, like always. I love you too."

"No, Gerard."

Gerard let his eyes drift slightly out of focus as he lit another cigarette. He could just barely see Frank's silhouette, reflected in the dark window.

"No?"

"No, I mean, what if I _really_ loved you? The way I'm not supposed too."

"Frank..." Gerard turned back to face Frank. "What?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't know, I just... With everything that's happened recently. And..." Frank sighed, lighting another cigarette for himself. "I love you."

"Frank, I..."

Gerard barely noticed the look of terror cross Frank's face, felt the entire car jerk, felt Frank's hand press searing heat against his chest. Heard Frank's scream.

+

"You should come to the hotel, Gee." Mikey's voice was soft, concerned. He couldn't bring himself to look down at Frank, lying there as still as Mikey had ever seen him. Even sleeping, Frank wasn't that still. He hated that tube across Frank's face, directing pure oxygen towards his nose, ensuring that he had enough air despite his frighteningly shallow breaths. It made it like Frank wasn't Frank anymore.

"I'm not leaving him. Not until he wakes up."

"Gee, you need to eat. Shower. Shave. Come on."

"This is my fault, I have to be here for him."

"It's not your fault." Mikey turned. Bob and Ray stood in the doorway. Bob was looking at the floor, tugging on his lip ring with his teeth. Ray had been the speaker.

The lanky guitarist stepped into the little room, crossing and reaching easily over the bed to touch Gerard's shoulder gently. "The only person at fault here is that fucker who's even now rotting away in prison. There's nothing you can do for him by being here, Gerard. You've got to leave sometime."

"I can't leave him." Gerard's voice was strained, as if he was tired of repeating himself but unable to say anything different.

"Do you plan on killing yourself in the vain hope that it'll help him?"

Gerard blinked, looking up at Ray with unearthly dry eyes. Ray shook his head. "Just for a bit. Brian's still here. He'll be fine."

Gerard looked back down at Frank, lifting the cold hand to press his lips weakly against his knuckles. "I'll be right back, Frankie."

+

Gerard jumped, abruptly waking from his doze, as the hospital room door swung open.

Linda scampered in with a breeze of half-familiar incense-y perfume. She smelled like when Gerard had first went to Frank's house, years ago, unable to meet her eyes, shaking her hand weakly as he looked at the floor.

"My baby, my poor baby boy." She touched his cheek with fingers that looked like a softer version of Frank's own. Gerard looked into her eyes this time, tears matched in both. She circled the bed and he rose to his feet, presuming she wanted the chair.

She threw her arms around him instead. "Oh, Gerard. Brian told me you were in the car. Are you all right? Is your brother okay?"

Gerard couldn't speak; he simply hugged Frank's mother tight, closing his eyes.

+

Gerard was crying.

It was two in the morning, and the night nurse had just left, leaving Gerard alone with a silent Frank and his own guilt.

"You have to wake up. You have to be okay. I can't do this without you. They say in TV shows, and movies and all, that people in comas can hear and shit. So listen to me. Wake up. You have to wake up, Frankie."

He pressed his lips to Frank's hand. Frank's hand was pale and cold, Gerard's lips chapped and dry.

+

"I'm sorry she had to leave so soon. It sucks." Gerard sat at a strange angle, one foot in the chair, a sketchbook propped up against his thigh. He sketched as he spoke; assured by the doctors that often having a familiar presence could help to awaken people from this state.

"The doctors said if you don't wake up within, like, the next week, they might move you to New York."

Gerard exchanged his black pen for his red. "You got more flowers today, and the fans aren't even supposed to know. There's so many people here who need you, Frankie."

Gerard capped his red pen, setting it down, tugging the page out of the sketchbook, crumpling the red-edged sketch of Frank in the hospital bed.

"You have to wake up."

+

"What if I loved you too? What then, Frank? Would you wake up?"

Gerard paced at the foot of the hospital bed. "Well... well, I do. I obviously do. Would I be here every hour, every minute of every day, if I didn't?"

Gerard returned to his chair, pulling it up close to the bed and pressing his lips to Frank's hand again. "I love you. I'm completely in love with you. You have to get better."

Gerard paused, useless hope tugging at his insides, making him feel ill. He pulled away, the chair clattering to the floor as he stood, his voice rising into a shout. "You're supposed to wake up now! Like in the fucking movies!"

+

Gerard tilted his head back, letting the too-white hospital light burn his eyes as the doctor carefully pulled stitches from the cut on his cheek.

"How's Frank doing, doctor? No one's telling me, uh, us, anything."

The doctor sighed weakly, continuing to administer to the cut on his patient's cheek. It was probably going to scar. "They're making plans to move him to New York at the end of the week. He can get better care, there, be closer to his family."

Gerard closed his eyes.

+

"I don't want them to just take you to New York like this. What if you, like, what if you aren't stable anymore, after the trip? What if they can't keep you going? What if you... if you..."

Gerard choked, curling up in the chair. His chair. No one else sat in it. Frank's mom hadn't even sat in it, when she was there all of two days. They'd brought in another chair for her.

He wondered if the rest of the hospital knew something that even Frank didn't, yet. He wondered if the staff knew they were in love with each other.

+

"Tomorrow morning." The doctor said. Gerard chewed on his lip.

"It's safe, right?"

The doctor sighed. "Unfortunately, there's always the chance that something could go wrong, transporting an unstable patient. It would be better if he were marginally closer to consciousness, but..."

Gerard turned away, returning to Frank's room.

+

"I can't lose you, you can't leave me. You can't. Don't. I'll be there waiting in New York, for you. I'll be there waiting, you have to get better, there."

Gerard looked out the hospital window, looking out at the late night skyline. He didn't see Frank's reflection this time, moving, one hand flexing weakly. He didn't see Frank's eyes flutter open.

"Gee?"

Gerard's heart stopped, strangled by his throat. He almost couldn't bring himself to turn and look, but he did, and there Frank was, eyes open, looking at him. His voice was a mere ghost of it's former self, but it was his voice.

"Gee, did you..." Frank's eyelids fluttered. Gerard reached to press the nurse call button. "Did you say you loved me?"

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his face. He reached for Frank's hand, like he had been for the past three weeks. Pressed his lips to the cold skin. "That was a week ago."

Frank smiled weakly. The door opened, the night nurse walked in, her eyes widening.

Frank's eyes closed. "I love you."

The nurse scampered out of the room to contact Frank's doctor, always on call.

Gerard cried against Frank's hand.

He was going to be okay.


End file.
